


Date Night

by thetrueenemyofhumanity



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:45:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15887238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetrueenemyofhumanity/pseuds/thetrueenemyofhumanity
Summary: Request: Tracer and Emily enjoy a well-needed date night.





	Date Night

“How?!” Lena exclaimed, tipping the contents of the bag into a large bowl, “How can some be bloody burnt and some be not popped at all?”

Grabbing a few of the more burnt pieces, she popped them into her mouth. Wasn’t the worst taste but it wasn’t the best either. Maybe another thirty seconds would get them all popped at least. Replaced the ones that were incinerated.

“You are not putting them back in the microwave,” Emily ordered, taking the bowl away from her girlfriend. Her speech was muffled by her trying to talk around the bag of crisps she had clamped between her teeth. She dumped the snacks on the coffee table before plopping herself down on the couch with enough force to send cushions bouncing off.

“Oh, sure!” Tracer complained, walking in with their drink for the evening, “It’s alright for you to make a mess of the sitting room but when I do it-“

“Lena, when you make a mess it’s like a bomb has hit this place. And who is always left to clean it? I’m allowed to give out,” she replied, throwing one of the fallen cushions. The brunette blinked just in time to avoid the hit, but was now situation on the far side of the room.

“Well! Just for that I’m sitting over here tonight,” Lena huffed.

“Aw babe, don’t be like that! Come heeeeere.”

“Are you going to apologise for trying to take my head off with a pillow?”

“No. If I’m honest I just want the wine.”

“Hmph. You’re sure as hell not getting it now.”

Emily smirked. She knew just how to get her girlfriend over here. Fishing out the remote that had buried itself under the arm of the couch, she pressed a button and began playing Lena’s most hated show. They hadn’t even gotten as far as the fake audience laughs and Lena was by her side, offering the wine bottle in surrender. Emily tossed the remote as she took the bottle.

“Where are the glasses?” Emily enquired.

“Oh it’s only us two, just drink it from the bottle!”

“What about germs?”

“What about them?” Lena asked, leaning down to press her lips against her Emily’s.


End file.
